


Maybe We Are Eternal

by two_drama_nerds_in_a_boat



Series: Mal Yoo Character Studies [2]
Category: Lumberjanes
Genre: F/F, Idk how to tag this the fic just has those quiet summer camp vibes... y'know?, Pocket knives, Wordcount: 500-1000, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29014275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/two_drama_nerds_in_a_boat/pseuds/two_drama_nerds_in_a_boat
Summary: It's a quiet night in the cabin, and Mal and Molly carve their names into their bunk.
Relationships: April & Jo (Lumberjanes), Mal Yoo/Molly (Lumberjanes)
Series: Mal Yoo Character Studies [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2179131
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Maybe We Are Eternal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [radio_antlers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radio_antlers/gifts).



> For radio_antlers, who asked for some Mally, and Syl, who asked for background Jopril - I tried my best on the Jopril bit, it ended up being kind of vaguely there, but I tried my best!! I hope y'all enjoy it <3

Mal didn’t bring a pocket knife to camp; she’s not one for sharp things, never has been, always thought they were more destructive than anything, always cutting ties, never able to mend them. Mal’s an artist - she makes things. She has no use for a knife. 

Molly didn’t bring a pocket knife to camp; her parents would never let her within thirty feet of one. She’s always wanted one, of course, always envied the perfect girl scouts who received their first bright red Swiss Army’s as thirteenth birthday gifts. Molly has some ties she’d like to cut. She’s just never been allowed to. 

Jo brought a pocket knife to camp - well, a multitool, really, for fixing things that break - but it has a knife function, and Molly borrows it, and she and Mal wait for a night when Jen’s off meeting with the other counselors (there's some sort of monster that's broken into camp, a conundrum only the counselors can solve, no matter how much the Roanokes long to volunteer), and they carve their names into the soft wood of the bunk, small and hard to see, but there, there,  _ there  _ nonetheless. 

In that moment, the two of them almost feel eternal. 

In that moment, in the dark cabin with Jen out in the darkness, nothing but the quiet night sounds outside, it’s like the world will never stop spinning and it’ll just be them, together, forever, holding hands in wood grain where they’ve etched their mark. 

_ MAL + MOL _

_ MAL + MOL _

_ MAL + MOL _

“You should add a heart around it,” says a groggy April, watching them from her bunk. “The wood’s soft. It wouldn’t be too hard to carve, yeah?”

“Leave ‘em be, April,” Jo mutters, though it’s clear from her tone that she’s not truly that opposed to a midnight conversation. “They’re having a moment.” 

Mal smiles. April and Jo bicker, sometimes, back and forth and forth and back like this. It’s just how life is, here, the same way the mail never comes on time and the trees start to walk when you’re not looking at them and Molly’s always at her side, arm around her shoulders, or her waist, grinning, laughing,  _ there.  _ It feels nothing like home. It’s more something like family. 

“I think a heart ‘round it would look cute,” Ripley mumbles, half asleep. “Maybe add a kitten too…” and then she turns over in her bed and mutters something about the tigers, _we have to save the tigers, Jo, it’s the only way we can save the earth…_

Molly takes the pocket knife from Mal’s fingers, hands gentle and calloused. 

“I’ve got this one.” 

It’s a whisper in the dark, so close and yet Mal can’t see her, though she feels her breath through the warm summer air, the shape of the words in front of her. 

“A heart around our names… kinda cliche.” 

“Kinda sappy,” Molly says, and Mal can hear the smile in her voice. Mal feels the bed quiver as Molly etches into the wood. 

Maybe art can come from destruction, sometimes.  Maybe cutting ties and sowing new ones go hand in hand. 

When she’s done, Molly folds up the pocket knife and sets it aside, somewhere in the darkness that Mal can’t see. She reaches out for her hand. 

Maybe they can be eternal. 

Maybe they already are.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!


End file.
